


Where No Storms Come

by idlesuperstar



Series: The Life And Death Of Sugar Candy [27]
Category: The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 23:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14092548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idlesuperstar/pseuds/idlesuperstar
Summary: Oh! - now - this was a sight to come home to! Theo, wet haired, flushed and gleaming; one arm stretched along the side of the tub, a cigarette dangling idly; a glass of something in his hand.





	Where No Storms Come

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Gerard Manley Hopkins' [ _Heaven - Haven_](http://www.bartleby.com/122/2.html/) even though neither Clive nor Theo is a nun.

These light nights were deceptive, Clive thought. They always caught him out, and made him think it was earlier than it was. Gone nine and still light! It was a beautiful evening, mild and clear; he’d enjoyed the stroll home after the airless rooms of HQ.

 

“Evening Murdoch,” he said, hanging his jacket up. “All well here?”

 

“Aye, General, all well.”

 

“Theo about?”

 

“He went up for a bath, sir, some time ago. I’ve not seen him since.”

 

“Alright. I’ll track him down,” Clive said, exchanging his shoes for slippers. Ah, that was better. He wandered into the den to pour himself a whisky. No Theo here. He sipped his drink appreciatively. Thank god he had a decent cellar. They’d run out of the good stuff at HQ already. At least he was set up for the duration, however long that would be. He topped his drink up and headed upstairs.

 

No Theo in the bedroom. Still in the bath, then. Clive took off his tie, unbuttoning his collar. Better. He hated feeling trussed up. He undid his cuffs and rolled his sleeves to the elbows. Much better. He padded along to the bathroom to see if Theo was there. Pushed open the door and - oh! - now - this was a sight to come home to! Theo, wet haired, flushed and gleaming; one arm stretched along the side of the tub, a cigarette dangling idly; a glass of something in his hand. He was reading - holding a sheaf of paper carefully above the soapy water. He craned his neck back at the sound of the door opening; smiled lazily at Clive.

 

“So! Is this what I’m fighting to protect, eh?” Clive asked, faking umbrage. “I thought it was we English who were supposed to be the decadent ones!”

 

“Yes, Clive. You are fighting so that anyone in your country may have a bath - whoever they may be.”

 

“Hmm, yes.” Clive said, trailing his fingertips along Theo’s arm as he passed, “and the right to drink my - ” he took the glass from Theo’s hand; sniffed it, “ - my brandy, eh?” he said, handing it back.

 

“Oh. No. Only  _ I  _ have that right, mein Freund,” Theo said, laughing softly, taking an appreciative sip of his drink. 

 

“Well, in that case,” Clive said, putting the toilet lid down and sitting on it, elbows on knees, facing Theo, “in that case, it’s alright. Carry on.” He smiled, toasting Theo with his own glass. Theo raised his glass, and drained it, reaching down to put it on the floor. Oh, the lovely stretch of his arm; the wet gleam of skin. 

 

“What’s that you’re reading?” Clive asked, eyes on the wet ends of Theo’s hair curling over his ears.

 

“Oh - your speech. Do you mind?” Theo asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

 

“No, of course not,” Clive replied. Theo shuffled the papers together to tidy them, and leaned over the side again to put them safely out of the way. 

 

“How was your day?” Theo asked, intercepting Clive’s gaze as he was staring unashamedly at the lovely line of Theo’s shoulders, his arm, the pink flush across his chest. 

 

“Oh, alright. The usual. More planning,” Clive said, absently, patting his pockets in search of his cigarette case. “Can’t say much, I’m afraid.”

 

“I know,” Theo said, settling lower in the water. “It is fine.”

 

“How about you, any luck today?” Clive asked, lighting his cigarette and taking a welcome drag.

 

“No,” Theo said, taciturn, bringing his cigarette gracefully to his lips, squinting at Clive through the smoke. “Not today.” 

 

“You don’t need to work, you know,” Clive said, trying to sound mild.

 

“I know this. I - ” Theo broke off, clearly biting his tongue. Held his breath for a moment before taking a final drag of his fag and stubbing it out. He settled back, smoothing a hand over his wet hair. “We have discussed this, Clive,” he said, and Clive could see he was holding his temper in check. “I do not want an argument.”

 

“Sorry,” Clive said, chastened, and concentrated on his fag for a moment.

 

“Alright,” Theo replied, rubbing his hand across his face, and then stretching lazily, arms behind his head, all the muscles in his stomach pulled taut. Oh, the sight of him; the lovely stretch of his arms, the pink flush across his chest, the faint bob of his cock in the soapy water, the wet gleam of his hair. Lovely. He held the stretch for long moments, eyes half closed; watching Clive, watching his reaction. The bathroom was already hot; Clive felt the flush on his neck rising. Theo sank back down, chin in the water, the lines of his body blurry through the soapy water. 

 

“Mmm,” he murmured, smiling languidly at Clive. “Do you want the bathwater, after me?”

 

“Hmm?” Clive asked, knocking his drink back, eyes still on Theo. A bath would be nice, but, “don’t get out on my account,” he said, enjoying the sight too much.

 

“I fear I have run all the hot water off, Clive,” Theo said, sounding not at all regretful.

 

“Decadent, like I said.” Clive smiled. No wonder it was so steamy in here.

 

“You could always get in with me.”

 

Oh! Couldn’t he! What a thought. 

 

“Well - ” he said, thinking for a moment how to go about it.

 

“Clive, this bathtub is enormous. There is plenty of room. And - no need to be noble and brave the taps, eh?” Theo said, easing himself to a sitting position, arms around his knees, hair falling into his eyes, water sloshing. “You can get in behind me, yes?”

 

“Alright,” Clive agreed, readily. He stripped quickly, glad to get out of his clothes. Theo watched him steadily from under his hair, eyes bright. Oh, he would one day get used to it, Theo’s open regard. Theo shuffled a little further forward, and Clive clambered awkwardly in. For a moment he was unsure where to put his feet, but soon resolved the problem, folding himself awkwardly down into the hot water; feeling the wet press of Theo’s leg, his arms, and then finally settling comfortably back, Theo easing himself back to rest against him, careful of where he put his weight, water rising almost to his chest. 

 

“Alright?” Clive asked, aware not only of the weight of Theo’s head against his shoulder but the wet rasp of hair against his legs and the firm press of Theo’s backside against his cock. He reached for the soap, lathering his hands, and slipped his arms under Theo’s to soap his chest in smooth, slow strokes. 

 

“Mmm,” Theo murmured, relaxing fully against him, “that feels very nice, mein Freund.”

 

“Good,” Clive replied, low, resting his cheek against Theo’s wet hair. Nothing quite so lovely as this. The familiar planes of Theo’s chest; his belly, soft beneath the water. The lovely weight of him, close, with nothing between them. He pressed a soft kiss to Theo’s wet hair, hand smoothing up over his ribs, back down to his belly, slow and sure. 

 

“This is one way to conserve water,” he murmured into Theo’s ear. Theo chuckled softly, pressed his thigh against Clive’s for a moment, made a noise of agreement.  

 

“The Ministry is going to suggest that people take showers or use the public baths,” Clive continued. Theo made a noise of  disgust, surprising him.

 

“What?” Clive asked, stilling his hands.

 

“I like baths, Clive,” Theo said, quietly, turning his head away.

 

“Showers are more efficient, so I’m told,” Clive said, confused. 

 

“We are being efficient, here. Sharing water. Anyway,” Theo continued, more forcefully, “you like baths.”

 

“I know,” Clive said, absently, resuming his slow strokes down Theo’s chest. “I was just thinking aloud.” 

 

Theo brought a hand up to rub at his face, briefly. 

“It is - it is stupid,” he said, sounding annoyed.

 

“What? Sharing water?” Clive was bemused.

 

“No. Showers. It makes me think - ” he broke off, pushed his hair from his eyes, face still averted, “ - even after all these years, it makes me think of the camp.”

 

“The camp?” Clive was at sea for a moment. Then, realisation. “Oh. Derbyshire.”

 

“Yes.” Theo said quietly.

 

“Oh.” Clive replied, uncertain what to say.

 

“I know. I have never spoken of it.”

 

“You don’t have to. We - we sorted it all out,” Clive said. A flash of memory for a moment - of Theo’s closed-off face. But no. That was forgotten.

 

“What?” Theo asked, sounding confused. “Oh. Yes.” He brought a hand up to briefly clasp Clive’s arm; let it fall back into the water. “You think - you thought then, also - you think I am speaking only of how I acted. Towards you.”

 

Another flash of that image. Theo’s face. The memory of the hollowness in his stomach still vivid, even if the pain had gone. But what did Theo mean? Clive’s thoughts were confused, even as he continued his slow smooth strokes over Theo’s chest, Theo’s belly. Theo sighed, softly. 

 

“I am sorry,” Theo said, quietly. “I am sorry for a lot of things, in my life,” he continued, sounding more pained, “but I know I hurt you terribly.”

 

“A long time ago,” Clive said, trying to reassure him. They were so rare, these moments when Theo talked, that even the memory of that awful day was worth suffering, if it meant this, another glimpse of Theo’s thoughts. And easy to bear, with Theo safe and close in his arms, with Theo’s wet lovely skin under his hands. 

 

“I think you never understood,” said Theo, after a silence, his voice sad. It was awful to hear him sound so and to not be able to ease his pain. Clive stilled his hands, brought his arms closer round Theo, holding him as tightly he could. Theo pressed his still averted head against Clive’s chest; laid his hands over Clive’s. 

 

“I was so angry, Clive,” he said, his voice rough. “I was ashamed. And bitter. And it made me so angry. For - a long time.”

 

It was awful to hear it, hear him grinding the words out. And - shamefully - Clive felt it like a betrayal. That Theo had hidden this from him.

 

“You didn’t seem it,” he managed, hoping his voice was steady.

 

“I am a good liar,” Theo said, bitterly.  

 

“Theo - ” Clive said, wounded. He could not believe it.

 

“Oh, Clive,” Theo said, more warmly, squeezing his hands, “not to you. Never, with you.” He turned his face back, finally, and Clive could just see the movement of his eyelashes, the strong line of his nose, the crease in his brows. 

 

“Those few moments, in the taxicab?” Theo asked, softly, “Before I left? That was truth, Lieber.” He lifted his hand from Clive’s, smoothed it along Clive’s thigh, as if to reassure.

 

Clive tightened his arms for a moment, hugging Theo as best he could. He knew it, of course; he had spent years knowing it. But it was a relief, after Theo’s words, to hear it.

 

“For me too, Theo. You know that.”

 

“Ja,” Theo said, “yes, I do.” He fell silent again, and Clive pressed his cheek once more to Theo’s wet hair, breathing in the clean smell of him, unwilling to break into Theo’s silence; half anxious of what else he might say, half eager to hear any precious bit of story. You could never push Theo - he would unpeel in his own time. Theo had moved his hand to rest on Clive’s knee; he was smoothing patterns into the skin with his thumb, as if lost in thought. 

 

This was enough, thought Clive. This - familiarity. This ease. Even with the full, lovely weight of Theo on him, the smooth skin under his hands, the beautiful stretch of him, these things that always sent his blood racing; somehow this unconscious comfort was glorious. This - he had never had this, ever. Not with the lovely dark-skinned boys, or the like-minded school friends, or matter-of-fact comrades. Not even with Theo, back in Berlin. There had been no time for such leisure; no time to be so close without an edge of desperation, of arousal. He found he was smoothing his hands once again over the planes of Theo’s chest, over the soft, oddly vulnerable flesh of his belly. 

“I did not recognise Berlin, when I returned,” Theo said, softly. Clive’s hand stilled a moment with his unexpected words, then continued. Theo sounded - not bitter, exactly. Sad. That awful hint of regret in his voice. 

 

“Oh, the city itself had not changed,” Theo continued, slow and quiet. “The buildings. But - ” he sighed, softly, his thumb still stroking Clive’s knee, “ - the people had changed.  _ I _ had changed.” 

 

Clive was at a loss. Did people really change? All his life he’d been told he’d not changed. Theo had seemed the same, back then. In the cab, when they were alone, at least. 

 

“I saw people do dreadful things, after the war,” Theo continued, low. Clive’s stomach lurched. Was this to be another revelation?

 

“Decent men and women, honest people, you know. Old soldiers. Men like you, Clive, whose whole life had been the army.” 

 

Clive could not imagine it, being turfed out at what, forty, forty-five? Something would have turned up for him though. But Theo? Surely he would have known, if Theo had been struggling? True, their postcards had never touched on such things, but Theo would have found a way to tell him, surely? Yes, he had found it hard to write, after Barbara, but even so. Then again, there were those four years. Theo’s pride. No, Clive realised. Theo would never have told him.

 

“But you, Theo?” Clive asked, carefully. “You were - alright?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, yes. I was alright,” Theo snorted, dismissively. Clive did not dare ask more. He reached quietly for the soap again, lathering his hands, soaping slowly across Theo’s belly, down his sides, in smooth broad strokes. Theo let out a breath that was almost a hum, clasped his hand firmly over Clive’s kneecap.

 

“Yes,” he said, as if coming out of his thoughts. “Yes I was alright. I landed on my feet.” He squeezed Clive’s knee briefly and let go, and Clive felt him relax all over, as he draped his arms over Clive’s thighs and sank a little lower in the water. His head was a hard weight on Clive’s collarbone, but he was warm and soft and pressed close everywhere; and Clive’s soft cock was snug in the cleft of his backside, and oh god, that felt  lovely. Theo wriggled a little, seemingly getting settled, and Clive’s cock twitched. Theo laughed softly, and wriggled again. The devil. 

 

“Oh, Clive, if you could have seen Berlin in the twenties, though!” Theo said warmly, and the regret had passed, and Clive could hear the boyish Theo once more. 

 

“Yes?” asked Clive, smoothing hands further down a little, as far as he could reach, until he felt the rasp of hair under his palms and the firm stretch of Theo’s thighs. 

 

“Yes, indeed. Tell me, Clive, did you - when you were in London in the twenties - did you dance the Charleston and drink champagne with the bright young things?” he asked, gleefully. 

 

“Oh tosh, Theo!” Clive said, laughing. Where did he get these ideas? How had he even heard of them?  “You know full well I didn’t!” he said, slapping Theo lightly on the chest, water splashing a little. “Why, did you have them in Berlin, too, the ‘bright young things’?”

 

“What? No. Better than that,” Theo said, twisting his head round for a moment to look at Clive with a grin. “Oh, you should have seen it, mein Freund. For a while, a short while, it was dazzling. The theatre! And cinema, oh Clive - ” and he was grasping Clive’s thighs, his voice vibrant, “ - we were the envy of all Europe, for a time. People would come from everywhere. And you know - ” he broke off, a smile in his voice, “ - the  _ bars _ . So many bars, and something for any taste. You know?” 

 

Clive did not know, not really, though he’d heard wild tales, sometimes in the club, late. A thrill ran through him at the thought, and he found he was still stroking Theo’s belly, his thighs, with no pretence of washing anymore. 

 

“Tell me,” he said, his voice a little husky.

 

“Oh, mein Freund. Bars where the boys danced with boys and the girls with girls. Now that,  _ that _ was decadent, you would say.” 

 

Decadent, yes maybe, but god, the thought of it. Thrilling. 

 

“Did you ever go, Theo?” he asked, tentatively. Imagine it!

 

“Yes, of course. A few times. Different bars.”

 

“Did you - ” how to ask it? How to say  _ did you go to the bars where the boys danced with the boys?  _ “With - friends? Or, did you, did you take - Edith?”  

“Ha, no! Imagine.” Theo laughed, amused. “No,” he continued, more quietly, “no, I used to go alone, when I went.” He was stroking under Clive’s thighs now, up to the sensitive skin at the back of his knees, and down again, and the feel of it in the hot water was delicious.

 

“Did you - dance with the boys, Theo?” he asked, more honestly. What answer did he want? 

 

“Hmm? Oh. Yes, sometimes,” Theo replied, almost wistfully. Clive stilled his hands at the flare of jealousy that brought. 

“Hey - ” Theo said, reading him all too easily. “Only dancing, Clive. Only ever that. Nothing more. I never was a saint, you know,” he said, “but I would not do that to Edith.”

 

Another, fainter, flare of jealousy at that. Jealousy that he had no right to, he knew. He had charged Theo with Edith’s care, after all. He smoothed his hands down Theo’s sides, and thought,  _ you are all mine, now. That is all that matters. _

 

“But you danced, eh?” he asked, recovering, hoping his voice was light.

 

“Sometimes, yes.” Theo was still stroking along the sensitive underside of his thighs, and Clive was aware of the firmer press of his backside, of the heat of the water, the rasp of hair under his palms. 

 

“Sometimes,” Theo continued, “it was good to simply go to a bar and  - ” he paused, hands stilling.

 

“Yes?” Clive prompted, softly, reaching again for the soap, lathering his hands, and smoothing them more deliberately across Theo’s belly, his abdomen, his thighs; watching the slow bob of Theo’s cock through the soapy water, feeling his own cock growing harder under the press of Theo’s weight; picturing Theo, handsome, dapper, in a bar of pretty boys.  

 

“ - it was good to just, to just be myself. To have a drink, and watch the boys, even if some of them were tarts, and not have to - ” he gusted out a sigh, “ - not have to  _ \- vorgeben?  _ Pretend.” 

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Clive agreed, thinking of the relief in the rare moments when he had been able to feel the same. 

 

“I would - ” Theo continued, with a hitch in his voice as Clive soaped teasingly closer to his hardening cock, “ - I would sit at the bar, drinking, watching the boys dancing together, and I would think of you.” 

 

“ _ Theo _ \- ”

 

“Where you were. What you might be doing. When your next postcard would arrive. How if you ever came to Berlin I could take you to a bar - ” he broke off, breathing hard as Clive closed a soapy hand round his cock, feeling the lovely weight of it, the thrum of blood, feeling it filling his palm; feeling his own cock hardening more, pressing hot and eager into the cleft of Theo’s backside. 

 

“Mein gott, Clive - ” Theo breathed, pushing up into Clive’s hand, pressing back down onto Clive’s cock, god, lovely, lovely, “ - ja, I would take you to a bar,” he continued, breathing hard, still moving, “ - and we could sit and drink, together, and - and  _ dance _ , together, and no-one would care,” he murmured, grasping Clive’s thighs hard as Clive tightened his hand at the words. 

 

“ _ Theo  _ \- ” 

 

“I know, foolish thoughts,” Theo breathed, voice gone rough at the edges, as Clive’s hand moved on him.

 

“Not foolish,” Clive said, low, “I - ” he gasped as Theo wriggled again, shifting himself up a little so that he could move more easily into Clive’s firm grip, and Clive’s cock pressed harder against him, “ - I used to plan how to visit. How - how to spend time alone with you. Not to even - well, you know,” he said, and god of course anything would have been worth it, even just to see Theo, but it was hard to think so nobly now, with Theo’s cock hot in his grip, with the arousal thrilling through him.

 

“Not at all?” Theo asked, a tease in his voice.

 

“Well - ” Clive laughed, husky, “ - of course. Of  _ course  _ I thought about it.” He was smoothing his other hand across Theo’s skin still, the smooth skin of his sides, the ridges of his ribcage. Theo’s head was pressed back hard, and the hair was curling around his ears, and Clive looked down the length of him, looked at his own hands on Theo, the flush across his chest, the blurry length of his legs in the soapy water. Christ. 

 

“What - what did you think, Clive?” Theo asked, breath hitching.

 

“What?” Clive could not remember what he had been saying, too distracted by the sight of Theo, the feel of him pressed all over, the hot wet press of his backside against his cock. 

 

“You thought about us, ja? In Berlin?” 

 

“Yes - oh, yes.” Clive said, huskily, “How when I saw you, it would be enough. Just to see you. But - ” he let out an unsteady breath as Theo stroked a hand further up the underside of his thigh, to where his backside was pressed against the enamel of the bathtub. “But god, how I wanted more, of course. I wanted to - to hold you, touch you - ” and god, how easy it was, now, to say it, “ - to have you, like this  - ” his breath hitched again under the relentless sweep of Theo’s hands, the firm press of him, “ - to have you, any way, really. And how - how it was not disloyal, not really. To the girls.” He tightened his arm across Theo’s belly for a moment. “I convinced myself it was not - not a betrayal.”

 

“Oh, Clive.  _ Clive.”  _ Theo murmured out, fiercely, hands tightening around Clive’s thighs. “I was yours, first. I always - I always belonged to  _ you _ .” 

 

“ _Theo -_ ” and _Christ_ , he had to take his hand from Theo’s cock, and hug him close, tight, fierce, overcome; had to bury his face in Theo’s neck, in his damp hair, had to press impossibly close, thighs and belly and cock, water sloshing as Theo held him back as best he could. He held tight for long moments, feeling the hard cage of Theo’s ribs, the fast thumping of his heart, the precious, fragile whole of him. Christ. Not fragile though, not really. Not like this. 

 

Clive realised, slackening his arms, that he was moving, unconsciously, pressing his cock into the tight hot wet space between them, and he shuddered a half-laugh out, pressed a kiss to Theo’s hair. Theo moved again, deliberately, sliding up Clive’s body as Clive slid down a little, until Clive’s cock was pressed fully along the cleft of his backside, and oh god, that was a glorious feeling. Theo murmured something, low, wordless, and Clive saw his cock jump in the water. He reached out again, took it in hand, oh, yes, that was lovely, hearing the hitch in Theo’s breathing, feeling the thickness of his cock, the glorious press of him. Theo tilted his head back, neck stretched taut, breathing unsteadily, moving in a slow steady rhythm through Clive’s hand, against him. Water sloshing a little, and the wet mess of Theo’s hair, and Theo was pushing his feet against the bath now, getting a little more leverage, as he fucked up into Clive’s hand. Oh, the sight of it! 

 

“Clive - ” Theo breathed out, voice rough, “Lieber,” as he pressed against him, as Clive could not help but rut into the lovely firmness of his backside, “ -  _ gott _ , das ist gut, Lieber - ” yes, yes, Clive could only nod agreement, “ - but you must stop, Clive, or I will not stop - ” 

 

“I don’t want you to stop,” Clive said, low, bending his head to Theo’s ear. Theo shuddered a little at that, breathed out a laugh.

 

“I don’t want you to stop - ” Clive repeated, firming his hand a little, “ - how you look - ” god, yes, how he looked, “ - how you  _ feel _ \- ”  and he was rutting unashamedly now, “ - I don’t want you to stop.”

 

“ _ Clive _ \- ”  Theo breathed, half-laughing, half desperate, “I want - I want more, ja?  _ This - ”  _ and he moved impossibly closer to Clive, pressing his backside against Clive’s cock so that Clive moaned aloud, “ - I want - I want you to fuck me, ja?” and oh holy  _ Christ _ .  _ Yes.  _ Theo laughed, again, and Clive realised he’d growled that out aloud. 

 

“Ja,” Theo agreed, still moving, “but - not here? Not in the bath. I do not want you to stop, but - ” he groaned out, “ - in bed, ja? Let us have time, and room, Clive.”

 

“Yes” Clive agreed, breathless. He did not want to stop, but oh god, the thought of it. “Alright, yes. Oh, god, Theo, you must  _ stop -  _ ” he laughed, desperate himself now. Theo did, mercifully, regrettably, and Clive unwillingly let go of him, let his lovely hard cock go, let him haul himself up to sit up, water sloshing everywhere. Clive slid back up to sit also, but could not resist the smooth plane of Theo’s back, the fine curve of his spine. Theo huffed out a laugh, leaning forward, arms clasped round his knees. 

 

“Always, Clive,” he said, fondly. 

 

“I can’t help it,” Clive replied, in kind. “You’re - you’re so lovely. This - ” he smoothed a hand down the wing of Theo’s shoulder blade, “ - so lovely.” 

 

Theo ducked his head, and Clive stroked up to the nape of his neck, through the wet ruffled hair. Christ. A momentary flash of memory, of Theo, wet in the sunlight; that boy, like a statue, beautiful in the spring light. And here they were. He paused, hand warm and possessive over Theo’s neck for a moment, felt the pulse thrumming fast below the skin. All his. He squeezed Theo’s shoulder and let go, hauling himself clumsily to his feet, stepping out of the tub, his cock jutting hard under his belly. Theo rose more gracefully, accepted Clive’s steadying hand, joined him. He was reaching for a towel when Clive stopped him, a hand on his arm.

 

“Clive, I am too old to run naked to your bedroom!” 

 

“Not that, idiot,” Clive said, fondly, slackening his grip to pull Theo towards him. “This - ” and he leaned into him and kissed him. Theo smiled into the kiss, brought his arms around Clive, kissed back, pressing wet and slippery up against him. Oh, the glory of this! The warm wet smoothness of his back, his spine; the soft lovely curve of his backside, oh, the fierce spark of arousal at the press of his cock, hard against Clive’s. Clive stroked wet hands over Theo’s backside, pulled him closer, kissed him harder, oh  - glory. Dared to drift fingers along the cleft of his backside, felt Theo’s cock twitch harder, felt the moan against his mouth. Christ, yes. He broke the kiss, breathless, looked at the flush high on Theo’s cheeks. 

 

“Alright,” Clive said, “now, we can go,” and he grabbed at the nearest towel, handing it to a laughing Theo, wishing that he had his dressing gown in here. Ah well. A towel would do. He wrapped it around his middle, and then opened the door, thankful as ever that Murdoch’s room was downstairs. Theo was jostling up behind him, teasing, boyish. Lovely. 

 

And then Theo was belying his words and running along to their bedroom, one hand at his waist to keep his towel up. Clive followed, laughing; closing and locking the door with a firm hand. He turned back into the room to see Theo, naked, towelling his hair vigorously. What a sight! His cock, hard, bobbing almost comically with the movement. And the full stretch of him, and his flushed skin. Christ, he was beautiful. 

 

Theo emerged, red faced, hair everywhere, and tossed his towel onto the chair, smoothing his hair back. He stopped, hands at his neck, smiling, suddenly aware of Clive’s gaze. 

 

“What, mein Freund?” he asked, knowingly.

 

“You know what,” Clive said, spurred into action; moving quickly across to him, taking him by the waist, all warm soft skin. 

 

“You know how I love to look at you,” he said, easily. So easy to say these things now.

 

“Ach,” Theo ducked his head, unexpectedly bashful.

 

“The sight of you - ” Clive continued, drawing him closer, easy; content for a moment to just stand, with the feel of Theo’s warm belly against his, and the thrum of the pulse in his neck. 

 

“You also, Clive,” Theo replied, almost gruffly. “You also,” bringing his hands down, smoothing down Clive’s arms to his waist, pulling him into a loose embrace. 

 

“So, mein Freund,” he said, after a few moments easy silence, “are you ready, hmm?”

 

“Ready?” Clive asked, laughing, “you make it sound rather - daunting.”

 

“No - ” Theo said, almost soothingly, his thumb tracing circles into the skin of Clive’s back, “ - not that. But - ” he looked up at Clive, eyes bright, his voice lifting, “have you never fucked a woman, Clive?”

 

“Theo!” Clive said, actually shocked.

 

“Hush!” Theo laughed, greatly amused, pulling him closer. “Your face, Lieber! As if I had said something - _de_ _trop.”_

 

“Well,  honestly - ” Clive mumbled, recovering a little.

 

“Ha! Enschuldigung, mein Freund. I forgot - your delicate nature.” 

 

“Hmmph,” Clive shoved him gently. “Why would you ask that?”

 

“Only that I know you have not - with a man. I only am - checking, hmm? There are - some similarities.”

 

“This is not helping, you know. You, you make it sound like I should have been studying. Like it’s - a military exercise.”

 

“Ha! Not that. Is that how you see me, eh? A country to be captured?”

 

“Oh - ” Clive blushed, “ - no, Theo - ” but God - he did a bit, didn’t he?

 

“It is alright, Lieber,” Theo said warmly, drawing him closer to murmur into his ear, “I am yours for the taking.”

 

_ Christ.  _ Clive flushed, tightened his hold instinctively. Theo’s hands were firm around his waist, his breath hot in Clive’s ear as he pressed closer. 

 

“Ja, Lieber,” he murmured, low, “ja - all yours.” 

 

“Yes,” Clive stuttered out, blood thrumming; smoothing his hands over the firm planes of Theo’s back, the lovely swell of his backside. Theo’s clever hands at Clive’s waist, pulling his towel loose and letting it drop. And then the full hot press of Theo up against him, chest and belly and cock and thigh.

 

“I - I don’t know what I’m doing,” Clive admitted into Theo’s ear, face pressed against his. 

 

“Then it is not so bad, eh, that one of us has some experience, however long ago, mein Freund.”

 

“Yes,” Clive said, squashing the brief flare of jealousy. Stupid to be jealous of anyone, now.

 

“Hey,” Theo murmured, amused, hands firm and smooth on Clive’s skin, his heart thumping against Clive’s chest, “would you fight all my old lovers?”

 

“Yes” Clive admitted, gruffly.

 

“Oh, mein Lieber - ” Theo laughed, “Ja! And I yours. So - ” he pulled Clive closer still, “ - we are equal, yes? No more of it.”

 

Equal, yes! And the shameful surge of joy at Theo’s words. That he felt the same stupid jealousy. Clive drew back a little, enough for Theo to raise his head questioningly; enough for Clive to kiss him, fierce and breathless. Theo’s arms tightened around him, and Clive smoothed his hands over the soft swell of Theo’s backside to pull him closer still. Christ, he was lovely, the firm curves of him, the thrilling press of his cock against Clive’s. Theo broke the kiss, pressing his cheek against Clive’s, one sure hand pushing up into the short hair at his nape, the other tight around his waist. 

“Bed, Clive,” Theo murmured, hot breath on his ear. 

 

“Yes,” Clive breathed out, voice gone rough, unable to let go. Theo laughed, drew back a little, kissed Clive, brief and firm, and disentangled himself; took Clive’s hand and pulled him across to the bed. Clive let go to tug the bedclothes down to the foot of the bed. It was too hot for covers, whatever they were doing. He  scrambled onto the bed, then turned back to Theo, unsure, suddenly, of where to put himself. Theo was rooting around in his bedside drawer for something, and Clive was distracted yet again by the fine curve of his spine, the play of muscles across his back, his arm. Theo turned back, smiling, and threw something to him, a small tin. Clive caught it instinctively, without thinking. Theo thumped onto the bed beside him, and stretched out on his back, arms behind his head, hair everywhere, cock flushed and lovely. Clive had a hand on it before he even realised. 

 

“Clive - ” Theo breathed out, almost chastising; but he was moving up into the touch, smiling at him. 

 

“Sorry,” Clive replied, loosening his grip. Theo made a low noise of complaint, despite his words.

 

“Ah - never apologise,” Theo laughed, eyes bright. “But  - you are so easily distracted, Lieber.”

 

“Well,” Clive replied, low, settling to lie beside him, smoothing his treacherous hand instead over Theo’s belly, his chest, “you are very distracting, you know.” He was leaning on an elbow, the tin still clasped in his hand. He looked at it, “Vaseline?” 

 

“Yes,” Theo replied, easily, “you will need it.”

 

“Hmm? For?” 

 

“Now you are teasing me, mein Freund. You are not that naive, surely?”

 

Clive looked back up at Theo, at the flush across his cheekbones, and suddenly remembered, blushing, something long past. 

 

“Clive?” Theo asked, reaching to smooth a hand down Clive’s arm, reassuring, almost.

 

“You remember - ” Clive cleared his throat and tried again. “You remember, when you used to do my shoulder, in the hospital?”

 

“Of course, Clive.” Theo grinned at him, eyes bright. “Any excuse, Lieber, to get my hands on you.”

 

“Ha, yes” Clive said warmly, “how I often wished I’d told you weeks earlier!” 

 

“Ja, true.”

 

“Well,” Clive said, almost embarrassed, “I nearly used that salve, once.”

 

“Yes?” Theo said absently.

 

“Yes,” Clive murmured, “you know - ” and he ducked his head, blushing.

 

“Clive?” Theo asked, not understanding. Then, “ -  _ oh,  _ on yourself, you mean - ” he grinned, understanding.

 

“Yes,” Clive admitted, “but I thought - well, it might sting - ”

 

“Ja,” said Theo, wincing at the thought of it.

 

“ - but also, if I did - the smell of it - I would be hard whenever you did my shoulder.”

 

“ _ Ja _ ,” Theo said, breathless, reaching a hand to grip Clive’s arm, hard. 

 

“I was - ” Clive paused, lifted his head, and said boldly, “I was anyway, sometimes. Hard, I mean.”

 

“Ja, me also, Clive,” Theo replied, smiling ruefully. “Me also.”

 

“Christ, we were idiots,” Clive said, forcefully. 

 

“Yes,” Theo said, and then he was laughing, and Clive found it impossible not to laugh with him, hugging him close and tight. Oh, what did any of that matter, with Theo here now; flushed and hard and all his, all his. God. He slid a hand down Theo’s chest, his belly, and grasped his cock again. Theo laughed, breath hitching, even as he pushed up into Clive’s grip. Clive grinned, and bent to kiss him. Theo pulled him close, kissed him back fiercely, his fingers digging almost painfully into Clive’s shoulder. 

 

“Clive - ” Theo managed, breathless against Clive’s mouth, “ -  _ Lieber,  _ I say it again, you must stop - ” 

 

“Oh,  _ must _ I?”  Clive teased, not stopping.

 

“Ja, bitte - ” Theo ground out, and Clive relented and slowed his hand. “Ach - ” Theo breathed, unsteadily, as Clive reluctantly took his hand away and pulled back a little. “Danke, mein Freund. I wish - ” and Theo pushed himself up onto his elbows, his hair falling over his forehead, “I wish to wait, ja? Until you are inside me.”

 

Holy  _ Christ _ . Clive grasped him, fiercely, kissed him again, hard, almost tackling him to the mattress. The thought of it! He’d not known, not really, how much he wanted it. Theo, always, always the clever one. Theo made a low sound, almost a groan; let Clive press him into the mattress, let him slide his weight across him until there was no space between them. 

 

“Right,” Clive said, breathlessly, breaking off the kiss determinedly, “tell me what to do,” he said, voice hoarse, “before it’s too late. Christ, Theo, the things you  _ say _ .”

 

Theo grinned at him, devilish, smoothing a hand down Clive’s back, over his backside, resting hot and sure there. Clive’s cock jumped at the feel of it. Theo grinned wider, slapped him lightly.

 

“Never fear, you will have your turn, another day.” Clive’s cock jumped again at that and Theo laughed, warmly, shoving gently at Clive’s side, “Alright, you will have to let me up.”

 

Clive heaved himself off and rolled over, watching the play of muscles as Theo sat up, pushing his hair off his forehead.  

 

“Where is that tin, Clive?” he asked, looking around. Clive had no idea. He sat up and felt around for it. It had gone under a pillow. He produced it triumphantly, and offered it to Theo. 

 

“You have it, Lieber,” Theo said, smiling. “Use it on yourself, ja?” he said, looking into Clive’s face for agreement. Clive blushed, but nodded. Theo was so matter of fact, it was silly to be embarrassed. 

 

“Also, use some on me, ja? I will - ” he paused, looking at Clive, and the bed, as if thinking something through. “Yes, this time, I think - ” and he scrambled around to kneel up, facing the headboard. He sat back on his haunches and looked at Clive. “Use your fingers, first, ja?” he said, nodding at the tin. Clive nodded back, unable to stop the ridiculous blush rising up his neck. Theo smiled, casual, as if they were talking of nothing, as if he weren’t naked with his cock hard and flushed, as if Clive were not a tongue-tied fool. Clive looked at the tin in his hand, felt Theo’s warm hand on his neck, briefly; a firm clasp and then gone. Clive started to unscrew the tin and felt the mattress shifting as Theo moved. He looked up to see Theo on his hands and knees, head dipped, all smooth stretches of muscle and skin.  _ Christ _ . 

 

“Your leg?” Clive managed, stroking a shaky hand over the glorious curve of Theo’s backside. Christ, what a sight. 

 

“Clive, if you are fucking me properly I will not be thinking about my leg,” Theo replied, hotly, and Clive could barely keep from bowling him over. He put a hand to his cock, tight, for a moment, breathing heavily, but oh god, the slide of the salve was not helping at all. Theo looked sideways at him, curious, and then huffed out a laugh. 

 

“Are you waiting for an invitation, mein Freund?” he asked, devilish again, with his hair falling into his eyes and the bright flush on his cheekbones. 

 

“Damn you,” Clive said, hoarsely, and scooped up another fingerful of the salve. He knelt up, steadying himself with a light hand on Theo’s back, only too aware of the arousal thrumming through him, of an overwhelming urge to just rut like an animal. He must let Theo guide him. He was not a savage. 

 

“Tell me,” he started, wanting to be sure, wanting, for once, not to just barge in like he always did.

 

“Oh, be certain, Clive, I will tell you,” Theo replied, voice rough as Clive slowly pressed a finger into him. Theo let out a wordless noise, dropped his head. 

 

“Alright?” Clive asked, unsure, retreating, scooping up more salve. 

 

“Yes,” Theo drawled out, rough and low, “yes,  _ langsam _ , slow, at first, ja? Just like that, yes - ” and Clive thought that he must be doing something right, to make him sound so ragged. Were it not Theo, this would be almost absurd, but god, it was Theo, and he was making low sounds in his throat, and dear god the sight of him! Clive went steadily, smoothing his free hand over the firm swell of Theo’s backside, down his thigh and back up; brushing lightly at his balls, seeing the jump of his cock and oh, god, feeling the clench around his finger. What would that feel like, around his cock? Christ. 

 

“More, now, Clive - ” Theo murmured out, and Clive could not think, for a moment, what he meant. 

 

“More?” he asked, kneeling up, pushing further in, smoothing his hand up over the bumps of Theo’s spine, round his ribs, under his belly to clasp lightly at his cock. Theo groaned aloud, and Clive felt that squeeze around his finger again. Theo dipped his head, the muscles stretching smooth over his shoulder blades, and started moving a little, into Clive’s grip, and then oh god, back onto his finger, and Clive suddenly thought of what it would look like, Theo like this, but with Clive fucking into him. Christ. He tightened his grip reflexively on Theo’s cock, working his hand a little faster, and Theo was murmuring low sounds, and god, Clive was not a saint, and he was so hard, and this would surely kill him, if he could not do something. 

 

“Theo - ” he said, and his voice was shockingly hoarse, “ - are you - can I? - ” 

 

Theo shuddered out a laugh, still moving, dipped a shoulder to look back at Clive, dark eyed and flushed. 

 

“Ja - ” he breathed, unsteady, “ - ja, you can. But - go slow, still, ja?” 

 

“Ja,” Clive replied, feeling the flush rising on his neck, feeling the thrum of Theo’s cock tight through his hand, as he withdrew his finger to scoop up more salve and oh god slick it onto his own cock. Oh god, let him hold out. Let him not let Theo down. 

 

“I need to - ” he said, rough, apologising, and let Theo’s cock go for a moment, to steady himself with a hand on Theo’s back as he knelt up, shuffled closer, Theo shifting his knees further apart, Clive pressing a final smear of salve into Theo with his thumb, his hand shaking and god, god, he was going to do this and Theo wanted him to do this and oh Christ -

 

“Are you sure - ” he managed, desperate, and Theo laughed again, sounding wrecked, and said “Clive, Lieber, yes, I have - ” he ducked his head, hair everywhere, back heaving, “ - I have thought it, often - ” and Clive looked down the length of him, the line of his spine, the smooth planes of his back, at his own hand, big and hot on Theo’s pale back, and as Theo breathed out “ - verdammt, man, I am  _ sure -  _ ” he pushed in, and oh Christ the feel of it! Theo moaned out, low, head down, and ground out “ - slowly, ja, slowly - ” and Clive didn’t think he could go any slower. Theo was breathing hard, and gasped out “ - warten -  _ wait -  _ ” and Clive held himself still, heart thudding, hands clutching at Theo’s sides, and oh  _ fuck _ the hot tight clench of it was better than anything he’d felt before, and oh god, how,  _ how _ had he never done this, ever? Theo finally lifted his head up, the back of his neck flushed and damp, and shuddered a breath out. Christ, let it be alright. 

 

“Alright?” Clive asked, unsteady, and Theo huffed a laugh and oh  _ god  _ Clive felt it, felt the squeeze around his cock. 

 

“Ja,” Theo said, voice rough and low, “ja, Clive, very alright. I need to - before you - ” he dipped his head again, hair wrecked, and Clive tried desperately not to move. 

 

“Can you - ” Theo managed, unsteady, “- your hand.” He sighed another breath out, shifted one knee slightly. “Your hand -” he repeated, louder, “ -  my cock. I need - Clive, touch me - ”

 

_ Christ _ . Theo would kill him before either of them finished. Clive put one unsteady hand on Theo’s shoulder, saying “I need to - can you take it? My weight?”

 

“Ja,” Theo replied, voice steadier, and Clive felt him brace his arms. “Ja, just - please - no more, yet.”

 

“Alright,” Clive managed, reaching around to clasp Theo’s cock in his hand, trying not to push further. Theo murmured out a sound, and Clive felt his cock pulse in his hand.

 

“Alright?” Clive asked again, starting a slow rhythm, “Theo?” he asked, his voice rough with the effort of not pushing forward, his arm braced hard against Theo’s shoulder. Theo was breathing shallowly, and Clive hoped desperately that it would be alright, please god let him have more, and then Theo let out a low, pleased moan, and Clive could  _ feel _ him relaxing and then Theo said, warmly, “ - you can move, again. Slow, ja? But -  _ mehr _ .  _ More _ .”   

 

Oh, thank  _ Christ _ . Theo laughed again, even as Clive was pushing further in, and Clive wondered if he’d said it aloud. But god, he didn’t care. He didn’t care about any of it, except the fierce tight heat of it, and the low sounds Theo was making, and oh  _ Christ _ he was there, all the way, and he could feel his heart thudding and oh dear  _ god _ , and Theo was breathing hard and fierce, his cock thick and hot through Clive’s hand, his body clenching hot and tight and Clive wanted to  _ own _ him, to burrow into his skin and all the dark places of him and possess him, like a savage.  _ Christ _ . He had tightened his grip on Theo’s shoulder, as if he had him by the scruff, as if he could pull him further onto his cock, and Theo was breathing hard and Clive’s could feel his blood thrumming, at his temples and in his cock, in the tight fierce heat of Theo’s body. 

 

“Wait - ” Theo murmured, and Clive realised he was squeezing Theo’s cock like Theo was squeezing his, impossibly tight. He loosened his grip a little, felt the hot throb of Theo’s cock through his hand. 

 

“Theo - is it - are you - ” Clive could barely think, between the urge to move and the desire to please Theo.

 

“Gut, Clive, es ist gut, ja?”

 

“Yes.  _ Yes _ .” Clive breathed out, steadying himself. “Better than good - ” he managed, voice rough, “ - I,     I can’t think.” 

 

Theo laughed, breathless, and Clive felt it all through him. Dear god. 

 

“You?” Clive murmured. Please god let it be good. 

 

“ _ Unbeschreiblich. Sehr gut. _ ”

 

Clive huffed out a shaky laugh, and Theo let a low sound out at the movement. “You’re speaking German,” Clive managed, his mouth dry. “Is it - that good?”   

 

“Ha, yes.” Theo dipped his head, and Clive leaned into him slightly. God. Surely, god, surely he could move now?

 

“Clive if you - ” and it was only when Theo made a tiny movement that he realised he’d stopped stroking Theo’s cock, “ - your hand,” he said, unsteadily. “Do some work, ja?”

 

“Bossy,” Clive replied, but took up a slow, steady stroke again, and Theo made a thrilling noise, all pleasure and arousal. Christ, this was definitely going to kill him. 

 

“Can you - ” Theo murmured, in between breaths, and Clive could hear the challenge in his voice, rough though it was “ - can you keep that up?” 

 

“Yes,” Clive growled, almost affronted.

 

“Can you - ” Theo continued, low, dark, unsteady, “ - do that, and fuck me, also?” 

 

“Christ,” Clive growled out, pressing forward unthinkingly, “Christ, can I?” and he tightened his grip on Theo’s shoulder, bracing himself hard, and began to move, even as Theo breathed out “ -  _ langsam -  _ slowly _ \- ja - _ ” drawing back, barely halfway at first, the feel of it almost too much. Dear god. The slow tight slide of it. He pressed back in, all the way, trying desperately to match his hand’s rhythm to the slide of it. Theo murmured out a low, thrilling sound and Clive did it again.  _ Christ _ , how had he lived without this feeling? Theo’s cock was heavy and full in his hand, lovely, and he was moving now, with Clive; pushing through his grip, and back, pressing his backside firm against Clive, closer, closer, until there was nothing between them. Clive was breathing hard at the feel of it, the arousal thrumming in his blood as they moved steadily faster,  as he drew further back and pushed in deeper, as Theo moved with him, against him, Christ the feel of it, and Clive could not keep his rhythm, damn Theo and his taunting.

 

“Theo, I can’t - I can’t - ” 

 

“Wass, Lieber?”

 

“I can’t do both, damn you - ” he rasped out, “ - not much longer - ” and Christ, if Theo moved like that again he would be good for nothing very soon. Theo breathed out a laugh, and nodded, even as he was still moving, clenching tight, Christ, so tight around Clive’s cock, and then he let his arms slacken, and folded himself down until he was leaning his weight and head on one forearm, and Clive almost fell with him, pressed closer, hot and sweaty over his backside, thighs rasping; and then Clive felt Theo’s hand on his, hot and sweaty too, and for a moment they both held on, tight, as Theo fucked into their hands, and then Theo muttered something and Clive knew he could move, and he took his hand away, and oh Christ now he could hook his arms under Theo’s shoulders, pulling himself closer, tighter, into the fierce tight heat of him. Theo’s arm was flexing around his, tight and fast, and Clive was moving with him, against him, faster too. 

 

“I can’t - ” he ground out, voice wrecked, “I can’t -  _ Christ _ , Theo, I need - ”

 

“Fuck me,” Theo heaved out, rough, “come on, Clive,  _ verdammt _ ,  _ mehr _ \- I want  _ more -  _ ” and oh  _ Christ _ , yes. Clive slid his arms out from under Theo’s and braced himself, hands hard on Theo’s sides, hardly caring that he was gripping too tightly, and Theo, god, Theo was meeting him with everything he had, fierce and glorious, and yes yes, they were matched in strength, always, always, equals in this too. Clive looked down the length of Theo’s back, the flush on his lovely skin, the heat of him, the impossible glory of this, and Christ he was close, with Theo giving him back everything, and they were rutting hard and fast like animals and he couldn’t care, he couldn’t care, and then Theo was moaning out low desperate sounds, chest heaving,  working himself faster, sending a dark thrill through Clive, and suddenly Theo dipped his back, taut, and oh god, oh god, he was coming, hard, and Clive felt the clench of it around his cock, and could not stop, fucking fierce and fast into it, into the hot tight press of Theo’s body, even as he felt Theo slump onto his arms, he could not stop, felt it driving, building, could only hold tight to Theo’s sides, thrust faster, and oh god god god he was coming, hard, shuddering into Theo, pressed hot and close, urgent, fierce, endless; and then, arms slackening, almost falling down onto Theo’s back, covering him, and Theo moaning out a sound and somehow their knees giving way, until they were sprawled, hot and sweaty, flat out on the bed; Theo’s back heaving under his chest, his hair itchy on Clive’s cheek, thighs rasping together. Clive could not speak, could barely get his breath, feeling the twitching aftershocks through his thighs, the sweaty thump of his heart; feeling Theo’s heart thudding through his back, pressed hot to Clive’s chest; and though he knew Theo must be squashed, could not bring himself to move, with the hot delicious softness of Theo’s backside under him; and oh  _ God _ with his cock still inside him, perfect perfect. 

Clive could not say how long they lay like that, their breathing slowly evening out, juddering hearts calming, until Clive realised they were breathing in rhythm, realised also that though his cock was softening and almost tender, he would happily never move again, would stay, pressed into Theo, buried as deep as he could ever want. He closed his eyes, listened to the familiar sound of Theo’s breathing, smelt the clean, soapy smell of his hair, and the stronger smell of his sweat; the fainter smell of his spunk, and the mess of them together, and what glory it was, that it was so familiar! Oh, god, let them lie here forever. That was a fanciful thought, but he could not help it. 

“Theo?” he murmured, quiet, into Theo’s nearest ear.

 

“Mmm?”

 

“Do you want me to move?” Clive asked, too sated to hide the reluctance in his voice.

 

Theo huffed a laugh that Clive felt rather than heard. “Not really,” Theo replied, a smile in his voice. 

 

“Good. I don’t think I can.”

 

Theo huffed another laugh, though he barely moved, with Clive’s weight on him. 

 

“Am I too heavy?” Clive asked, hoping for a favourable reply. 

 

“Yes,” Theo murmured, frankly. Damn. “But - ” Clive saw, from the corner of his half open eye, Theo’s hand reach out lazily to take his own, “don’t move, just yet. I can bear it.”

 

“Good,” Clive murmured, lazy. Oh, this was glory. He linked his fingers with Theo’s. Theo squeezed his fingers idly, hummed out a noise. He felt boneless and lovely under Clive; content, relaxed, like Clive was. 

 

Clive thought he could fall asleep like this. Even though it wasn’t the most comfortable thing, lying on Theo, he’d never felt quite so content. Theo might object, though. He snorted a quiet laugh at that. Theo tightened his fingers around Clive’s for a moment, shifted himself minutely to press his backside more firmly against Clive. 

 

“Wass?” he mumbled, his voice rough and sleepy around the edges. 

 

“Falling asleep,” Clive murmured. “Not sure you’d approve.”

 

“Me also,” Theo said, low, after a moment. “You are right,” he murmured, his voice indistinct and slow. “I do not approve. But - ” he pressed back against Clive again, and Clive felt the lovely clench and flex around his softened cock, felt a lazy thrill run through him, “I would fall asleep like this, if we could,” Theo finished. 

 

“Yes,” Clive agreed, voice husky. “Yes. Theo - I never - ” he stopped. How to put such glory into words?

 

“Ja. Ich weisse - ” Theo agreed, uncanny as ever, squeezing Clive’s fingers again, “ - Lieber, I also. Du - ” he sighed out a long breath, and Clive felt it, felt the rise and fall of it under his weight. Clive clutched Theo’s hand tight, managed to burrow his other hand under Theo’s body, hugged his as tightly as he could, overcome. Buried his face into Theo’s damp neck and said “Christ, Theo,  _ Christ -  _ ” and felt Theo shudder out a shaky laugh and mutter “Ja, Clive,  _ ja -  _ ” in a cracking voice. Clive clung tightly, pressed heavy and close to Theo’s hot skin, overwhelmed again with the need to gather him up, possess him, burrow into every part of him; pressed rasping thighs to his, felt Theo’s grip on his cock, Theo’s grip on his hand, hard enough to bruise;  _ wanted _ those bruises, wanted Theo’s marks all over him, wanted them to mark each other again; wanted -  _ oh _ \- as he relaxed his fierce hold finally - wanted nothing more than Theo with him; close, loved, safe, always. 

Clive sighed heavily, pressed a soft kiss into the damp skin of Theo’s neck, and admitted finally, reluctantly to himself that he supposed he must move. He disentangled his fingers from Theo’s now gentle hold, and tried, weakly, to push himself up onto his elbows. He let out a groan that had Theo laughing, and tried again.

“Slowly, eh, Clive - ” Theo murmured, as Clive tried to slip his cock from Theo’s body.

 

“Sore?” Clive asked, concerned.

 

“Nein - just - ach, wass ist der Wort? Tender - ” Theo said, turning his head to the side and cracking an eye to look at Clive. Clive eased himself finally out of that lovely hot grip, and rolled over onto his back, thumping gracelessly onto the mattress. Theo lay unmoving, and Clive turned his head to gaze at him for a long moment; the curve of his ear, the fall of hair, the rise and fall of his back, the lovely swell of his backside. He smoothed an idle hand over the curve of it, felt Theo shift a little. 

 

“Alright?” Clive murmured.

 

“Sleepy. I do not - ” Theo rolled over, lazily, and even in this he was graceful, and Clive felt hopelessly clumsy for a moment, next to him. But then Theo pushed himself up on his elbows and pulled such a face -

 

“What?”

 

“That,” Theo said, very definite, “is an odd sensation.”

 

“What is? You said you weren’t hurt - ” Clive said, anxious suddenly.

 

Theo sat up, still with a strange expression, and leaned forward, curling his spine and stretching his arms out before him. And then slowly unfolded himself and pushed himself off the bed to his feet. He turned to look at Clive, a rueful smile on his face. 

“Not hurt, mein Freund. But - ” he laughed, briefly, and then smiled wickedly at Clive, even as he was walking slowly, almost stiffly, to the door, giving Clive a lovely view of the line of his spine, his shoulder blades, “ -  I mean, I can feel your -  _ spunk _ \- in me - ” and he grinned, wide, at Clive’s shocked face.

 

“ _ Theo!”  _ Clive said, flushing hot.

 

“What? It is your spunk,” he laughed, and then pulled a discomforted face. “No need to be coy, mein Freund! But - ” he opened the door, tying the dressing gown cord slackly, “ - I need to clean up, ja?” and he was gone, leaving the door open and Clive red-faced in bed.

 

Clive put a hand over his eyes, feeling the embarrassed flush all up his neck, his face. The things Theo said! As if they were ordinary, everyday conversations! Yet it was silly to be embarrassed, he knew. Theo was right. And it was so much easier now to speak of such things, with Theo. His ease, his casual way. He had a straightforwardness about it that Clive had never realised was possible. Perhaps it was because he was German. No, that could not be it. The language Clive had heard in the barracks over the years - the English soldier was no less open. And no less - bold. The difference was, Clive realised, with dawning joy, that this was not crude boasting, or bravado, but the easy talk of - of  _ equals _ . He could say anything to Theo. It had always been the case, he knew, but -  _ anything _ . How freeing it was! No avoidance, no dissembling; no holding back. What glory!

He took his hand from his eyes, glanced over to see Theo coming back into the room, a sheaf of papers in one hand. What - ? Oh, of course, his speech! Theo quirked an eyebrow at Clive, and Clive realised he was still grinning broadly. 

 

“Wass?” Theo asked.

 

“Come here,” Clive said, fondly, and Theo came willingly, smiling indulgently at Clive. Clive grasped his arm as he leaned over the bed, pulling him close, until he laughed and dropped the papers carelessly on the floor and folded himself down onto the bed, over Clive; the silk of the dressing gown smooth and warm, sliding over Clive’s naked skin.

 

“Kiss me,” Clive murmured, still smiling, and Theo did, happily, tasting of toothpaste; smelling fresh and clean and warm. The precious heavy weight of him, the delicious glide of the silk, the soft warm swell of his backside under Clive’s palm. Clive again wanted to gather him up, to pull him close and tight, until they were as close as could be, but he settled, instead, for the lovely lazy glide of his palm over Theo’s back; for the soft, easy kisses; for the slow, steady thump of Theo’s heart above his own. 

 

“That was - marvellous,” Clive murmured contentedly, as Theo settled himself more comfortably, his head pressed close under Clive’s chin. 

 

“I am glad you enjoyed yourself,” Theo replied, the mischief evident in his voice, muffled though it was against Clive’s chest. 

 

“And you did too - ” Clive said, half as a question. He hugged Theo lazily to him, smoothed a hand idly over his hair, his shoulder. 

 

“Ja, you know this is true, Clive,” Theo murmured, easily. Then a sudden jerk of movement as he pushed himself up to lean on an elbow, messing his hair up, looking Clive full in the face. 

 

“Is good, ja?” he said, grinning, poking Clive in the side with his free hand, “being the one in your - position? Doing the fucking? You see now why I liked it so much, that way, with Sasha?”

 

“ _ Yes, _ ” Clive said, warmly; all jealous thoughts of Sasha fading, thinking only,  _ when can we do that again?  _ “Yes, god, yes. I feel - ” he paused, self-conscious for a moment, before realising how stupid that was, now, “ - I feel like I’ve been missing out, all these years! Why did I never know? What a feeling!”

 

“Indeed, mein Freund,” Theo grinned back at him, almost teasing. “I seem to remember thinking the same thing, all those years ago.”

 

“So - but you never? I mean - ” Clive rambled, smoothing a hand over the warm soft curve of Theo’s backside, “ - I mean, surely you - there were others, surely? And women, too?”

 

“Ja, there were others, and women too, Clive, though you make me sound like a rake, you know,” Theo smiled, “no more than you, I suspect. But - no, you know what it is like. Time, and opportunity. The fear of discovery, hmm? And a man’s, um,  _ talented _ mouth on your cock can make you forget almost everything.”

 

“True,” Clive murmured, lost for a moment in a jumble of memory; the flash of white teeth in a hot dark alley; the shocking heat of a clever mouth in the cold of winter; Theo’s own wicked mouth. “Yes, very true.”

 

“And fucking a woman is not like fucking a man, after all,” Theo continued, eyes bright, “not really. You will have to take my word for that, Clive,” he laughed, smoothing a hand down Clive’s still sweaty flank. “I do not want to find you running off to discover it for yourself.”

 

“No fear!” Clive protested, even though he knew Theo was teasing. “No fear,” he said, more softly. “Girls, women, are nice enough, lovely enough in their way. I can appreciate a pretty face as well as the next man - ” he smiled, “well, possibly not  _ quite _ as well, seeing as that’s you, Theo. But - ” he continued, even as Theo was about to speak, “ - that’s as far as it goes. Always has been. They don’t -” he paused, wondering for a moment at all this pouring out of him. Things he had never said, not even to Barbara, at least not in such direct terms;  “ - there’s no -  _ desire.  _ Affection, yes, at times. But no real attraction. No - ” he coughed, almost embarrassed, “ - no  _ lust _ .”

 

“ _ Clive _ \- ” Theo said, hotly, bending close to kiss him fiercely, pressing warm and full against him.  Clive gathered him up, kissed him just as fiercely, kissed him as though they had no time left, as if there was a train waiting, and life was crashing in. He smiled, laughing against Theo’s mouth.

 

“Wass, Lieber?” Theo murmured, still pressing soft kisses to his face, his lips. 

 

“Time, Theo. All the time we have. My god,” he said, pulling away a little to look at Theo’s dear face, to smooth a hand once more over Theo’s lovely thick hair, “my god, when I think of that morning in Berlin. We had so little time, didn’t we? And yet I was so happy. I was the happiest I had ever been in my life. You, in my bed. Everything.”

 

“Clive,” Theo murmured, smiling back at him, “Lieber. You and your heart. Your great heart.”

 

“And now we have all this time, and still I am so happy.”

 

“I also, Clive. I also. You put it well. All this time,” Theo said, fondly, almost wistfully.

 

“So - ” Clive said, a grin breaking out, “ - we can do that again, and again - ” he broke off, laughing, as Theo collapsed on top of him with a theatrical groan. 

 

“And - ” Clive went on, slapping Theo lightly on the backside, and craning his neck to murmur in his ear, “ - the other way round, too, again and again.”

 

“ _ Clive _ \- ” Theo moaned into his chest, but Clive could feel him laughing. “Yes,” Theo said, voice clearer as he tilted his head up to look at Clive. “I always wondered, you know,” he continued, almost thoughtful, “if it was as good, you know. For  - Sasha. I know that some men do not like it, that way.” 

 

“And?” Clive prompted, almost holding his breath.

 

“Well,” Theo grinned, teasingly, “I cannot speak for  _ him, _ nor for any other, but for myself - ” he pushed himself up until he was looking into Clive’s eyes, his own eyes dark and fond, “ - yes.” He bent his head to kiss Clive, softly. “Yes,” he continued, in between soft kisses, voice low, and almost serious, “Lieber, with you, it is more than good.” 

 

Clive pulled him closer, joy almost overwhelming him, not just at Theo’s words, but the warm lovely feel of him, the ease and happiness between them. “I told you I wanted everything,” he murmured, voice husky, into Theo’s ear, “with you, love, with you.”

Theo tightened his embrace at that, pressed one last soft kiss to Clive’s lips, and dropped his head again to rest against Clive’s chest. They lay like that, Theo a lovely warm weight over him, until Clive suddenly yawned hugely, making Theo laugh, and slap him on the flank.

 

“Come along, Clive, before you fall asleep and wake up grumpy.” Theo slid over him to the other side of the bed, and made an unhappy noise.

 

“What is it?” Clive asked, pushing himself heavily to a sitting position, and reaching to undo the belt on the dressing gown, twisted under Theo’s side.

 

“Wet,” Theo said, curtly, reaching into the pocket and pulling out a crumpled handkerchief, scrubbing half-heartedly at the mattress. “I forgot, that,” he said, pulling a face at Clive.

 

“Got carried away, eh?” Clive teased, unconcerned. They could manage, this once. “Here, let me have my dressing gown, will you?” he said, as Theo continued his mopping up. “We’ll remember for next time, anyway.”

 

“Alright,” Theo said, giving up and shuffling to the edge of the bed to stand and slip the dressing gown off. Clive took it, still warm from Theo’s body, and smelling now like both of them, and got unsteadily to his feet, feeling sleepy and still a bit shaky. He left Theo to his mutterings, and hastened to the bathroom. He glanced in the mirror as he cleaned himself up, saw the faint flush still on his neck, and could not help but grin at himself like an idiot. 

 

Theo was propped up in the middle of the bed, smoking, as he came back into the room. Clive slid in beside him and settled down comfortably, taking the cigarette as he offered it. Theo pulled him close, an arm around his shoulders, and Clive felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the familiar thud of his heartbeat. They passed the cigarette between them in easy silence, and Clive felt his eyes closing, even before it was done. He felt, rather than saw, Theo stretch to stub out the cigarette and turn off the light, and then Theo was pushing gently at his shoulder until he turned over onto his side. He felt the warm press of Theo up against him, Theo’s soft belly against his spine, his knees tucked behind his own, his arm warm and heavy around his waist. Clive murmured something, and Theo made an indistinct noise in reply. But Clive was asleep, without even knowing it, and Theo was close behind. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This takes place the week after [ _Retreat_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2377424/) but before June 16th when Clive should, but doesn't, do the Sunday Night Postscript on the Radio (J B Priestley does it instead, which he [actually did](https://specialcollectionsbradford.wordpress.com/2010/06/15/postscript-sunday-16-june-1940/).) 
> 
> This fic came about entirely because of Theo's line in that scene - "I read his script." Which made me think about Theo reading Clive's script in bed. And then I thought, what if he's reading it _in the bath?_ Because what's better than a naked Theo? A naked _wet_ Theo. _Immer._
> 
> beta as ever by **jennytheshipper.** It's not her fault this has been pretty much finished for four years and not posted, it's entirely mine. We might even finish this thing this decade, who knows.


End file.
